The Warg Rider
by Juli Marie
Summary: A young Rohirrim girl name Isówyn is left without a home when she is forced to flee her small village during an orc attack. She is then faced with a difficult decission when she is attacked by a warg and her horse is murdered.
1. Chapter 1

Cries and screams echoed through the previously silent night air, carried by the wind. Flames reached out, quickly catching on the thatched roofs. Isówyn sat up abruplty, awoken by her mother's gentle nudges.

"Isówyn, quick. Get dressed," her mother whispered fiercly.

"Momma? What's going on? Where's Pappa?" Isówyn's small voice called out.

"Hush, dear one. Everything will be alright. I promise." Her mother quickly urged her up and dressed her, covering her in a thick, warm cloak. Horrendous sounds flooded the room through the open window. Shreiks of death, from both human and beast. The harsh and flickering light of the flames outside reached into the room, casting ominous shadows.

"Momma, I'm scared," Isówyn whispered. In answer, she was pressed into an embrace; her mother's arms wrapped around her comfortingly. She looked up at her mothers bright blue eyes, they were barely visible in the darkness. She felt her mother kiss her on the forehead. Her mother then gave her a heavy pack, it contained what little food they had in the house along with a heavy blanket. Reluctantly, she placed a sheathed knife in her young daughter's hand.

"Do not be afraid to use this. Protect yourself Isówyn." At that, her mother rushed her out the back door to the stables. Her mother stopped her from looking over her shoulder, knowing knowing that the young girl would become gripped with fear at the sight.

Isówyn felt herself being lifted up onto her small horse, Eorla. Eorla stamped beneath her, frightened by the impending threat.

"Ride, Isówyn. Ride as far as you can. And don't look back," her mother urged the horse off, calling to her daughter one last time. "I love you, dear one."

Her mother's beautiful face was plastered in her mind, sorrow-filled and loving. Her beautiful blue eyes rimmed with red, tears freely flowing down her face. She saw her mother's rosy lips mouth those words over and over. "I love you, dear one. I love you."

Isówyn's eyes opened. She could feel that her cheeks were tear stained. The dark night pressed in on her. "I love you too, Momma."

She sat up, putting together her pack. She would get no more sleep this night. She was haunted by her dreams. She could not forget that night no matter how hard she tried. It had been almost a year since she had fled, but every night she dreamed the same dream. Every night, her mind was filled with the image of her mother's face.

"Come, Eorla." She called her horse to her, and gracefully mounted. The pair travelled almost silently through the night. They could barely be seen in the darkness; a small, dark brown mare and a young rider of no more than twelve years with long, dark brown hair that waved lightly in the night wind.

They traveled on as they had since that horrid night. Only stopping when rest was absolutely necessary. They had no place to go, yet they never stopped moving. Isówyn was too frightened to stop, too frightened to become attatched to one place ever again.

They rode on the edges of Fangorn. Isówyn remembered the stories her mother had told her, and kept a cautious distance. The forest felt threatening, and she had no desire to approach it. Eventually, they came to a small stream. Isówyn clumsily dismounted, they had recently run out of water and she knew they wouldn't have lasted much longer. She allowed Eorla to drink as she crouched on the bank herself, splashing her face and drinking the clear, cool water. Isówyn caught a glimpse of her reflection in the water. She looked so different then she recalled. She seemed much older than she was, her face betrayed the burden she carried.

Suddenly, she saw a shadow move beside her. She felt hot breath on her neck, and could smell a fetid stench. She heard a low, rumbling, threatening growl. She stood quickly, pulling her knife from her belt. Standing before her was a large, black warg, poised and ready to attack. It's dark eyes were focused on Eorla, as if it hadn't even seen Isówyn. She froze, as time seemed to stand still and the warg pounced on her beloved horse. Eorla's shrieks filled the air and blended with her own.

The warg turned from its freshly killed prey to look at Isówyn. It's eyes were filled with loathing and hunger. Blood matted the fur of its face. It seemed that she looked into those cruel eyes for an eternity before it soon moved to attack her too. Isówyn gripped her knife in her hand as tight as she could manage. She slowly backed up to the bed of the stream. The warg pounced and she dashed out of the way, rolling behind Eorla's still body.

The warg turned and pursued, its fur was dripping from its momentary swim in the stream. It stalked toward her, growling once more. This time as it leapt at her, Isówyn ducked, driving her knife into the soft belly above her. The warg tumbled as it howled, thrashing in pain. Isówyn watched in horror as it finally stilled. Only then did she release her breath. It was finally over.

She turned and collapsed onto Eorla's body, overcome with grief. She was Rohirrim, and had a special bond with her horse. She could not see how she would manage without her steed. As she sobbed onto Eorla's body, she heard faint movement behind her, accompanied by quiet, high pitched whimpers.

She turned, wiping her eyes free of tears. There, before her was a small, black warg pup, nudging and licking its fallen mother. Hearing her gasp, the pup looked at her with its piercing black, sorrow-filled eyes. It looked away, lowering its head before circling and lying down beside its mother.

Isówyn sat and watched it, it was still dark and she had no desire to move on. She started a fire and observed the mourning warg pup as she pondered what to do next. The pup ignored her and posed no threat at the moment. She was intrigued by the warg and felt guilt for killing its mother, despite the fact that it was in self defense. She sat by the fire and watched, and was soon asleep.

Isówyn woke to the sound of tearing flesh and growls. She opened her eyes to see the pup tearing at Eorla. She gasped in horror as the warg ripped apart her friend. She moved to pull her knife and stop it, but paused as it looked up at her. It pained her to see her friend in that way, but she knew the warg must be starved. It had lost its mother and had no chance at hunting. She had no way to bury Eorla and knew other animals would devour her body anyway. It hurt her, but she did not stop it. Instead, she doused her fire and shouldered her pack. Isówyn left her only friend behind along with the warg, and set off once more.

The next night as she sat by her fire preparing to eat she heard the high pitched whimpers once more. The small black warg pup stepped into the firelight and looked up at her. It slowly crept over to her, circled, and lay down beside her. She gripped her knife in her hand, but could not force herself to use it.

"Oh, why can't I kill you?" She yelled as she flung her knife into the groud beside her, her hand trembling. The small warg looked up at her, its head slightly cocked to the side. It's eyes held that same, sad look that it first gazed at her with. Isówyn sighed in surrender as she gently held out a hand. The warg sniffed it hesitantly, then nipped at it playfully. Isówyn gently ran a hand along the matted, black fur. The beast seemed half starved.

"No wonder your mother attacked us. You look as if you haven't eaten in days." She ripped a generous piece from the deer she had caught and prepared and tossed it to the warg. The odd pair sat beside each other in the light of the flickering fire, eating together in an unspoken truce. A truce that would soon be replaced by friendship.


	2. Chapter 2

_Hey everyone, I just wanted to let you know that I am planning to continue with more chapters soon. Actually, I wrote another one but my silly computer deleted it... :( But I'll try to type it up again and post it asap! Feel free to review and let me know what you think! Thanks! _

The wind whipped back her long dark hair as she rode, swaying in the large saddle. Windrae's large paws tore at the ground as they ran. The young warg pup had proved to be very trusting of Isówyn and had remained with her since that night. The warg had grown quite large in their time together. Isówyn had named him Windrae, meaning wind.

The girl and warg had grown close and protected each other, never leaving each other for more than a day. They hunted, traveled, and lived as one. Isówyn found that this black warg came to fill the role of a Rohirrim's horse. They shared a strong bond.

They typically stayed away from the towns. At the sight of Windrae, people panicked and armed themselves, glaring at her suspiciously before delivering threats to come if they did not leave. When the need arose, Isówyn would leave Windrae to hunt whilst she visited markets and towns. Upon her return, he would always leave her a part of his prey.

Isówyn and Windrae lived this way for many years, travelling throughout Middle Earth. Six years had passed since Isówyn had been forced to flee her home. As time passed, Isówyn became more confident and curious. She was no longer tied to once place, and felt that she was free to live her life in any way she saw fit. She had decided to travel throughout all the lands, to see all the people and places of the world.

Having recently traveled through the High Pass of the Misty Mountains, Isówyn knew she was close to the fabled land of the elves. It was rare that men dared to look for it, but she disregarded the warnings of the travellers she had spoken to. She would see Rivendell, as she would see all the other lands of Middle Earth.

She knew the valley had to be close, she was in the right area but had no means of finding the hidden home of the elves. Perhaps they would find her, she mused to herself.

Windrae padded across the dense forest floor under the cover of night, leaving large tracks in their wake. Isówyn surveyed the area around her, eager for a chance to see the elves. Her curiosity peaked as she saw a light in the distance.

Urging Windrae foward, Isówyn craned her neck to see ahead. The reddish flames of a fire slightly illuminated the way. Windrae hesitated, looking around warily. Isówyn ignored the wargs uncertainty, once again urging him on. When they were not far from the fire, she dismounted. She could hear the low rumble of a throaty growl from Windrae. Placing a gentle hand on his nose, she silenced him.

Crouching down, Isówyn peered through the dense woods. She looked around the fire to see who the camp belonged to, but no one was there. Suddenly, she felt the cool, slight bite of a sword against her neck. She turned around at its urging, careful not to move too suddenly. She looked up into the piercing grey eyes of a tall, fair man with dark hair that fell down his back. She could see that his ears were slightly pointed.

"Who are you?" The elf demanded calmly.

"I am Isówyn, Master Elf. I wish you no harm and my intentions are innocent," she promised confidently.

The elf cocked his head to the side, looking into her eyes. "So you say. But why should one that is innocent be astride such a foul beast?"

"Foul beast?! Windrae is not a beast, he is my friend. He would not harm anyone, save to protect me or himself. You should not be so fast to judge," she scolded hotly.

The elf examined the young girl, surprised. She was surely passionate, and not afraid to show it. He watched her for a few moments, but to Isówyn it felt an eternity. Removing his blade, he turned and gestured for her to follow him.

"I shall take you to m'lord Elrond. He shall decide your fate," the elf told her as she followed close behind. As they walked, they were silently joined by another elf. He looked almost the same as the other; dark-haired and grey-eyed, with fair elven faces and silver grey cloaks. They glanced at each other and then Isówyn, as if they were unsure of her intentions.

It was not long before the elves led her down a path into a golden valley, filled with trees of deep reds and greens. The rising sun cast its light over the valley, reflected by the flowing stream that made its way through the land. Isówyn's breath was taken away as she gazed upon the Last Homely House East of the Sea. She gazed at it reverently before being urged on by the two elven men.

They crossed a beautiful stone bridge and made their way up to the House of Elrond. There he stood at the top of the stairs, watching their approach.

"M'lord, this is Isówyn. I found her on our borders, riding a black warg. It has followed us from a distance, but has made no threat of attack. I thought it wise to seek your council," the elf that had first found her told Lord Elrond.

"You were right to do so, Elladan," Elrond assured him. "You may now leave us."

The two elven men took their leave, only Elrond and Isówyn remained at the stairs.

"Tell me, Isówyn, why have you come here?" Elrond asked as he looked into her deep green eyes.

"Simply traveling. I wish to see all the lands of Middle Earth, starting with Imladris. I heard the hospitality of the elves is renowned," she answered honestly.

"While this is true, there are a rare few who seek it. I can tell that you bear us no will ill, and shall allow you to remain here. But first, tell me of your past. I see that it troubles you greatly."

Isówyn told him everything. First, she spoke of her village in Rohan and how it had been raided by orcs. She told him of her escape, and then the warg attack. She told him of Windrae, and how she had come to love the warg. By the time she was done revealing her history, a tear had escaped against her will and made its way down her cheek.

Elrond reached out a gentle hand to wipe away the single tear. "You have had a hard past indeed, and are obviously aged more than your years would suggest. Your friend cannot remain in the valley, but may remain unhunted in the borders of this land." He moved to place a kind hand on her arm, but was instead enveloped in a hug. The girl had a strong grip, and had startled him. He chuckled lightly before returning the hug.

"Thank you, Lord Elrond," she whispered, her tears now freely flowing.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3:

Time passed slowly in Rivendell, as it always has. Isówyn came to know it as home. She loved Elrond as if he were her kin, and he loved her in return. From the elves Isówyn obtained great knowledge. They taught her some of the secrets of the world. After three years of tranquility in Rivendell, Isówyn began to feel something she had not felt in a long while. She yearned to be out in the wild, to make her own way. In Rivendell she was surrounded by beauty and peace, yet she was not content to stay. The day came when she revealed her feelings to Elrond.

"Do not dismiss this feeling, Nethrandir. It is not a bad one," Elrond told her gently. "Ever since you came here, I knew you would not stay for long. You know the meaning of the name I have given you, do you not?"

"It means little wanderer," she said, nodding her head.

Elrond smiled, "Yes, little wanderer. When you came here I saw in your heart that you are one who desires to achieve all that life has to offer. You have wandered all your life, yet you are so young. You have learned much from your past. We have taught you much as well. There is more to learn, but the time for that knowledge has not come yet. I cannot be the one to teach you certain things. You will find that many times throughout your life that you may have to be your own teacher. Do not be afraid to leave this place, for it will always be here for you to return to.

"Diola lle Heruamin Elrond," Isówyn wrapped her arms around Elrond, disregarding formalities.

"Ta nae amin saesa Nethrandir. Namaarie, Tenna' ento lye omenta." Elrond returned the embrace gently, remembering how he first comforted the young girl who had seemed so vulnerable. Since that day he had come to know her well. She was one of the most resiliant people he had ever met. She was not as delicate as she had seemed, she had proved that to him on multiple accounts.

"Namaarie," Isówyn whispered as she looked back at the Valley of Imladris for the last time. She ran a hand along Windrae's soft coat. "Let's go, boy. It's time to see the world."

Isówyn and Windrae traveled for many days. They traveled west as Elrond had once recomended. He had told Isówyn all that he knew about Hobbits, small folk from the Shire, but his knowledge was limited. Isówyn was intrigued by the halflings and was keen to see their beautiful green homeland. If she were to see all of Middle-earth, then why not start there.

Isówyn planned to stop at the village of Bree on her way. She had not been to such a village since she had gone to Rivendell. Leaving Windrae free to go wherever he pleased, Isowyn approached the gates of Bree. A squat man let her through apprehensively, but nicely enough. When she asked him where she could find a place to rest he told her that the Prancing Pony Inn should have available rooms and a nice warm meal.

The crowded, confining streets of Bree slightly intimidated Isówyn, but they also intrigued her. Candles burned through windows all around, casting an orange glow onto the streets. It was not difficult to find her way to the inn, and when she entered a kind, robust man greeted her.

"Ah, welcome young miss. I'll be assuming you'd like a room?" Before Isówyn could respond he cut her off, nodding. "Yes, of course, of course. Awfully busy we are tonight. I'll find you a nice room and have some dinner brought to you. Could I have your name, please?"

"Isówyn. And, I'd actually like to take my meal here if you don't mind," Isówyn told him, referring to the loud and busy main room.

"Oh, I would advise against that miss. A rough crowd they are, those men."

"I think I can handle it, sir." She said politley, biting back a flippant retort.

"Oh, goodness me. I forgot to introduce myself. I am Barliman Butterbur, proprietor of this here inn. I meant no offense though, miss. I'll have Nob bring you something warm to eat now and then prepare a room for you."

"Thank you, Master Butterbur," Isówyn nodded, pushing her way through the crowd into the smoke filled, noisy room. Some men were dancing and singing drinking songs while others laughed and drank together. She pushed into a corner and took a seat at an unoccupied table. It was not long before she was enjoying a warm bowl of some sort of stew.

Isówyn sat quietly watching the men around her share in their merriment. She smiled as a drunken man stumbled over and asked her for a dance, but politley declined. She chuckled as his friends laughed at the poor fellow. She was just finishing her stew as a man slid into the chair across from her.

"Don't feel like dancing?" he asked with a half smirk.

"No, I've had a long journey. I'm just looking for some rest and a nice meal," she assured the strange man.

"If that were true you would have simply taken your meal in your room. Not that it matters, or anything."

"Well, I wanted to watch them." The man gave her a curious look and she explained, "I haven't been to a place like this in a long time. It's nice just to see people having fun and being carefree. I guess that's a bit odd..."

"No, not at all. But, you know you could be having fun too. Let me buy you an ale?"

Isówyn looked at him apprehensively. He had a mug in his hand, but he seemed quite sober. She had no idea why she allowed this man to engage her in a conversation, but he seemed to be a kind, lighthearted person. He had dark, shoulder length hair and light brown eyes. His chin was covered with stubble, and his clothes looked weather-worn.

"You haven't even asked my name," she challenged.

"Well..?"

"It's Isówyn, and yes you may."

"I'm Galennár."

"It's nice to meet you Galennár. You're not going to ask me to dance are you?"

He laughed quietly, "Don't worry, I won't. You don't seem to be from around here. Where are you from, if you don't mind me asking?"

"Well, I was born in Rohan. But I've kind of wandered around my whole life. The closest place to home for me is Rivendell." Isówyn wasn't sure why she was telling this man she just met about herself, but it somehow felt right. He felt reliable.

"Ah, that explains it," he smirked.

"Explains what?" she snapped defensively.

"You have the manner of an elf, mixed with that of someone who is used to taking care of themself," he explained.

"Oh..." she muttered, a bit regretful that she had been so harsh. "Where are you from?"

"I'm a Ranger of the North. I'm not really from anywhere."

"A Ranger? I'm suprised we haven't met before. The elves of Rivendell and the Rangers are on good terms and Rangers often come to Rivendell."

"I know, but I have only been there once. It is a beautiful place and I found it hard to leave. I haven't been back since. That was years ago."

"Oh, I see. I've been living there for the past three years."

"Why did you leave?"

"I'm not quite sure yet. I guess it's because I want to see the world."

"The world? That's pretty general. Do you know where you want to go or what you want to do?"

Isówyn chuckled. "I really don't. It's rather funny, actually. Elrond teased me that I never knew where I wanted to go, just that I wanted to go somewhere. He called me Nethrandir."

"Little wanderer..."

She nodded, "Yes, you speak elvish?"

"A bit. I've gathered some knowledge of the language over time. Do you have any idea where you're going next?"

"The Shire. It sounds beautiful. I want to see what the halflings are like."

"I trust you've met Nob or Bob. You may find that the hobbits of the Shire are quite different than those of Bree. They're a quaint folk, with kind hearts. At least most of them."

"Have you been to the Shire?" she asked.

"Yes, multiple times. Most hobbits don't quite trust me though. I'm a protector of their lands, they just don't realize it. Whenever they see a man whose ways are different than their own, they get suspicious."

"I thought you said they were kind?"

"Oh, they are. They'll never admit that they dislike me," he chuckled. "When are you planning on heading there?"

"I was hoping to leave tomorrow morning."

"I'm actually headed that way. If you would be interested we could travel together for a while."

"That would be nice, I'll just have to warn you that I'm not alone."

"Are you traveling with a companion? Where are they?" Galennár looked around the room as if to see if her acquaintance was near.

"He's waiting outside of Bree. He doesn't like big crowds, they tend to be frightened by him."

"Oh, I see..." he said cautiously.

"Well, yes. That's to be expected though."

"And why is that?"

"Well, he's a warg..." Isówyn said hesitantly.

Galennár did a poor job of hiding his alarm. "A warg...?"

"Oh, he's friendly! Don't worry. I've known him since I was a child," she assured him.

"Oh, really? That is... interesting. How did you two meet?" he asked, finally trying a bit harder to hide his shock.

"Well, his mother attacked me when I was ten. It's a long story. Basically, I killed his mother, but he was just a pup and I couldn't just leave him. So I took care of him. We've been friends ever since. I know it sounds ridiculous, but it's the truth."

Galennár took a moment to look at her. "Wow, that's remarkable..."

Isówyn blushed. "Well, I really should get some rest. I haven't slept in an actual bed for a long while. I'll see you at dawn?"

Galennár gave her a nod of confirmation. "Good night then, Isówyn."

"Good night Galennár."


End file.
